


When Angels Fall

by TeamAlphaQ



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Guardian angels aren't real but Kenny needs one, Hurt/Comfort, I promise I'm not taking it lightly, I realize this isn't for everyone, Kenny's probably depressed, M/M, Suicide, This is almost a character study, potentially triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAlphaQ/pseuds/TeamAlphaQ
Summary: Bang!That’s the sound the handgun makes.Bang,as it goes off.But that’s not the sound that Kenny McCormick hears, no, all he hears is the faint sound of static, and the soft, yet brief lull of empty, emotionless, feelingless black.Bangwas the sound it made, but Kenny McCormick didn’t stick around long enough to hear it.He never did.
Relationships: Phillip "Pip" Pirrip/Damien Thorn, The rest are down to interpretation
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	When Angels Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying This Story Is Not For Everyone.
> 
> I've been a little wary of posting this because not only is it a very personal interpretation of Kenny, but because at times it comes off as almost excessive.
> 
> But here I am. Maybe someone will like it.
> 
> Enjoy.

_ Bang! _

That’s the sound the handgun makes.  _ Bang, _ as it goes off.

But that’s not the sound that Kenny McCormick hears, no, all he hears is the faint sound of static, and the soft, yet brief lull of empty, emotionless, feelingless black.

_ Bang _ was the sound it made, but Kenny McCormick didn’t stick around long enough to hear it.

He never did.

**BACK AGAIN I SEE.**

Glancing up at the shrouded figure of DEATH, Kenny sucked in his cheeks and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yep~” he said, popping the ‘p’ because he could. It used to be, back in the days where dying had been new to him, he hadn’t been able to talk. As time progressed however, he’d gone from no communication, to some communication, to being able to talk like he did when he was alive. It was a trick, you learned things like that because it beat stagnating and being bored all the time.

DEATH, naturally, was unamused. Chronically so.

**THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME IN THE PAST TWO MONTHS. IT IS BECOMING A HABIT OF YOURS.**

“I gotta say, it really tells you something about a guy when you see him enough that you learn his habits,” Kenny commented, chuckling under his breath. Obsessively, he poked at the side of his head, looking, as he always did, for a mark.  _ Nothing. _ “Not saying which one of us it tells you about, but it tells you about something.”

Despite Kenny’s attempts at humor, or perhaps stalling, DEATH remained entirely passive.  **IT TELLS ONE SOMETHING, YES.** He agreed, leafing through the ever growing and shrinking notebook of people dying, needing to die, and dead already. Kenny had once stolen it for a week, and it had been as depressing as it had been amusing, watching the ever changing lists of names. He’d gotten crap for it the next time he passed, but it had been something to do. South Park, while entertaining, needed  _ someone _ to liven it up.

“You know,” Kenny said, stretching his hands in front of him even though they were nothing but shadows instead of actual digits. “You need to get out more. Talk to some people. Meet some chicks, let loose~ You’re as stiff as a  _ corpse.” _ DEATH did not react, which was expected, but still disappointing. Someday, Kenny was sure, he’d get the fucker to actually laugh.

**I WOULD FALL BEHIND, I ASSURE YOU.** Resisting the urge to make another pithy comment, Kenny attempted to look over at DEATH’s notes, only to receive a disapproving sniff, and a closed book.  **IF THERE IS ONE THING PEOPLE WILL NOT WAIT FOR, IT IS ME.** DEATH said, entirely serious.  **I WOULD BE DOING US ALL A DISSERVICE BY NOT CARRYING OUT MY SET TASK.**

“Sounds boring, I wouldn’t want to be you,” Kenny told DEATH, a rueful smile on his face.

**WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS FIVE TIMES, KENNY MCCORMICK.** He wasn’t exactly known for his tact, Kenny had to admit, but the reminder stung.

“I’m sure I’m bothering you,” Kenny said more softly, biting his lip before letting it slip through his teeth. “Well, send me off my good sir, and I’ll be out of your way~”

**EVEN FOR YOU, THIS IS ABNORMAL.**

Kenny didn’t answer.

DEATH, if he could have sighed, probably would have.  **GOODBYE, I’M SURE IT WILL BE ALL TOO SHORT BEFORE I SEE YOU AGAIN.**

That night, after reawakening from his latest death, Kenny McCormick finally heard the bang.

But it was just a memory.

Careful not to wake his sister, who was snuggled up beside him, her youthful face scrunched up in sleep, Kenny sat upright and touched the side of his head. There was nothing, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a hole there, one that was only widening with each successive occurrence.

Scratching at it, as obsessively as ever, Kenny settled back down and didn’t protest when Karen curled up against his side, no doubt seeking the warmth that their sparce blankets denied them.  _ Another day, another life, another mistake. _ Some things never got better.

And some things never went away.

_ BANG! _

**THIS WILL BE TWENTY-ONE IN THE PAST SIX MONTHS, I AM NOT AMUSED.**

“Dang,” Kenny said, ignoring the meat of the sentence. “I thought I would have gotten you to crack a smile at that one.” Tugging the hood of his ghostly parka over his head, one of those things that he’d almost willed into being over the years of showing up here, the boy continued, “I mean, you’d think that someone as old as you would have a sense of humor, but alas, it is not to be.”

**WHY DO YOU COME HERE SO OFTEN.**

“You know me,” Kenny purred, his eyebrows wiggling. “I’m  _ always _ dying, always coming back. It’s a habit of mine. I thought you  _ knew _ that.”

**THAT WAS NOT WHAT I WAS ASKING. YOU DIE IN A MULTITUDE OF WAYS KENNY MCCORMICK BUT THIS HAS BEEN REPEATED IN THE EXACT SAME WAY TWENTY-ONE TIMES. WHY.**

“Come on D, that kinda question  _ hurts,”  _ Kenny said, pulling a pout. “Keep saying things like that and I’ll think you don’t like me. And that would just be mean.” Then again,  _ he _ didn’t like himself, so he wouldn’t really blame DEATH, an entity known for his impartiality, for finally developing an opinion on someone and it being a negative one.

DEATH, of course, just shook his head silently, hopefully no further commentary coming. Kenny was glad for that, he had enough trouble keeping Karen off his back when he had to explain the blood on his hoodies and the deadness in his eyes. This was supposed to be a moment to relax, not that he really deserved that, but  _ semantics, _ right?

**I’M SURE I DO NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS INCONVENIENT, YOU HAVE ALREADY BEEN TOLD ON OTHER OCCASIONS. BUT I CAN NOT HELP BUT REITERATE, THIS IS NOT WELCOME.**

“You could just  _ say _ that you don’t like me,” Kenny commented, even though he knew he was being unfair. Luckily, perhaps, you can’t guilt trip DEATH. He of all people would know, he’d tried and always failed. Can you fault a guy for having his defense mechanisms? “Look, any time you want to shuffle me along, I’m cool with that. You  _ know _ they’ll just send me back no matter what you do. If you don’t want to deal with me then don’t~”

DEATH paused in his page flipping so he could look up at Kenny. There were no  _ eyes _ for him to stare with and no mouth to be drawn into a tight line but Kenny knew that DEATH was studying him, trying to figure something out. Failing probably, Kenny was a closed book, but the attempt was being made. To think that he could confuse a millennia-old entity was amusing, so Kenny chuckled.

“Hey, D, man, you don’t need to psychoanalyze me, there have got to be better uses of your time.” Smiling absently, face devoid of anything that would give Death any clue as to what he was thinking, Kenny continued, “I’m not your patient, you’re not my shrink. Send me back to the Glue Factory, you’ve done your job.”

**THERE ARE THOSE WHO WISH TO KNOW WHY YOU CONTINUE TO DO THIS,** DEATH commented, as though Kenny hadn’t spoken.  **I MYSELF AM… BAFFLED.** Heh, Kenny McCormick, the boy who could go against DEATH and confuse him every time. What a life, what an existence, what a  _ name. _

_ I bet there are angels in heaven and demons in hell who dread me, _ Kenny thought, scuffing his feet over blank, vaguely glowing emptiness.  _ Well, I don’t blame them. _ “Hey, welcome to my world,” Kenny said instead, smiling. “We down there are  _ always _ confused.”

**IT IS UNCOMFORTABLE.**

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Kenny rolled his eyes, and, out of habit, rubbed at the side of his head.

**SOMETHING IS WRONG.**

_ Tell me something I don’t know. _ “No, everything is great!” Kenny insisted, smirking. “I’m just the  _ peachiest of keens. _ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was a battle of wills, a contest that Kenny was determined to win as DEATH stared at him and he grinned right back, cheeky as ever. Some might have wondered how he could act like this in the face of, well,  _ death, _ but Kenny wouldn’t have known what they meant.

_ Maybe cause once you hit rock bottom, you can never make yourself care again. _

DEATH, as expected, looked away first.  **TWENTY-ONE TIMES KENNY MCCORMICK, DO NOT MAKE IT ANY MORE.**

“You got it~” Kenny sang, but he knew it was a lie.

For once, he woke up in the same field as where he left. The gun was still lying there, and the blood was still everywhere, but Kenny didn’t bat an eye. He’d seen worse, he’d woken up to worse. This was honestly pretty tame, and more petty than anything else.

What was irritating was the fact that his jacket was covered in blood, that he could have done without.  _ Damn, that’s another one. I should stop wearing them, I don’t want to waste them. _ Not for something as stupid as this. He kept telling himself that if it worked, then it wouldn’t matter.  _ Where I’d go, I wouldn’t need a hoodie. _ But fuck, it  _ never _ worked and he wasn’t even sure he wanted it to work anymore, so he should really start acting like it.

But he had to have his little acts of defiance. This was one of them, wearing his clothes like he didn’t think he’d need them again was another. The stupid broken bunny watch on his wrist, well, that was sentimentality at its finest, but he overlooked it, as one tended to do. Instead he brushed the leaf-litter off of his back and stowed the gun in his pocket for good measure.  _ Still warm. Ain’t that just a kick in the teeth. _

Glancing up at the graying sky, Kenny closed his eyes, and for a moment pretended that there was sun, and that things were normal, and that everything was okay. It didn’t take much, just a few shallow breaths to forget these smells and replace them with old ones. Just a moment to  _ think. _

For a moment, he could feel the sun, hear the birds. Experience the gentle breeze as it wafted through his hair. If he waited for just a moment longer, Stan or Kyle would ask him what he was doing, just standing around and not moving. Maybe Cartman would yell at him. Heck, he could almost hear them, Cartman’s offensive comment and Kyle’s angry retort, before Stan calmly brought him back down to earth.

_ C’mon Kenny, aren’tcha gonna do somethin’? _

The first few drops of rain hit his face, and Kenny pulled up his hood as thunder rumbled off in the distance.  _ Enough of that, let’s not get stuck where we don’t belong, _ he chided himself, smiling almost at the bitter knot that grew in his stomach. No, there weren’t enough hours in the day to think like that, to  _ remember _ better times when he spent so much time trying to forget.

Better to pretend like it wasn’t a thing at all.

_ BANG! _

**NO, I WILL NOT DEAL WITH YOU TODAY. I AM TIRED OF THIS KENNY MCCORMICK. YOU HAVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR SEVEN MONTHS, I WILL NOT BE TREATED THIS WAY.**

“Relax D, take a pill for it or something,” Kenny crooned, his smirk already high on his face. “I know this guy over in North Park. Face like a crippled dog but enough extacy to make whatever’s bothering you just disappear.” Had he really stooped so low as to offer DEATH some molly? Well… yeah. What else were you supposed to do in this circumstance?? 

DEATH was not impressed, he really wasn’t ever impressed but Kenny could practically  _ taste _ the irritability in the air. Granted, it made sense since this was the second time he’d done this in as many days, but DEATH should be happy for someone to talk to. Other than the odd demon, angel, or other otherworldly being, who did he have for light conversation?

**IF I COULD BECOME FATIGUED YOU WOULD BE THE END OF ME.** Frustratedly, DEATH turned the pages of his book to the very back and leaned in to look at the print.  **DO I EVEN HAVE TO TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES THIS IS. I HIGHLY DOUBT I DO, I HAVE A SUSPICION THAT YOU ARE KEEPING TRACK.**

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Kenny muttered, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue.  _ I always keep track, even though I wish I didn’t have to. _ Glancing down at his shadowy arms, Kenny caught a flash of his broken watch and promptly stopped looking. “Time waits for no one D, I bet you have things to do today, so I won’t keep you.”

DEATH looked up at him and Kenny  _ felt _ his frown rather than saw it.  **AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO SEND YOU BACK, YOU HAVE OTHER APPOINTMENTS TODAY KENNY MCCORMICK.** Kenny raised his eyebrows and feigned excitement.

“Oh really! So someone  _ does _ like me. Other than you of course D, I know you just  _ love _ me.” Popping the joints of his hands, Kenny questioned, “Where are you gonna send me today, hmm?”

DEATH did not answer for a moment, but then he raised one of his shrouded hands and a door appeared. Kenny knew, from the many times he’d asked, that it wasn’t actually a door, he just perceived it to be, but he could understand the fallibility of human perception, so he accepted the explanation easily. It was probably, in fact, a portal. A rift. A rip in time and space that allowed people to cross through it. In his time, Kenny had been through it quite a lot. But he still enjoyed seeing it, because it was at least a little  _ different. _

**YOU ARE BEING ASKED FOR. MANY PEOPLE HAVE REQUESTED YOU AT THE SAME TIME, BUT I AM RESPONDING TO THE ONES THAT I CAN. IT IS NOT FOR ME TO SAY WHERE YOU ARE GOING THOUGH.** That was, Kenny knew, the standard answer, but if you prodded around a bit, sometimes you got something else. DEATH was almost pathetically honest, and Kenny knew how to use that, however twisted that made him out to be.

“So I’m in high demand?” Kenny asked, leaning forward and lifting an eyebrow. Tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, the boy mused, “Well, I suppose I am handsome, charming, and engaging in every way so they were going to realize it at  _ some _ point.”

#  **YOUR MASKS DO NOT AMUSE ME.**

Kenny’s smile fell. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Kenny stared down at his ripped jeans and said, “You know me too well D, a man’s gotta have his secrets, right? Don’t be so unfair, I can’t just vanish like you can.”

**DO NOT PLAY GAMES, YOU DISAPPEAR MUCH MORE EASILY THAN MOST. NOT EVERYONE IS LUCKY ENOUGH TO REAPPEAR.** When DEATH said it, Kenny looked down. He knew better than to argue with DEATH of all people about whether his life was a blessing or a curse, but the words jumped to the tip of his tongue regardless.  _ Lucky? Is that what I look like to you? _ No, those were bitter thoughts, he should have discarded them ages ago. They were  _ relics _ and he hated being sentimental.

“You caught me, I’m temperamental to a fault,” Kenny sang instead, looking at the hovering door and managing a smile. “It was fun talking with you, as always, but I really must be going. Celestial appointments and all that.” Stepping forward, up to the doorstop, Kenny gave DEATH a mock salute before wrapping his fingers around the doorknob.

**I WOULD NOT BE SO QUICK AS TO ASSUME THEY’RE OF A HEAVENLY NATURE,** DEATH said, his words actually provoking a smirk from Kenny.  _ Like I said, they’ll tell you anything. Anything you want to know~ _ Turning slightly, the sandy-blond glanced back at Death and raised his eyebrows.

“So it’s Hell today,” he asked bluntly. When DEATH said nothing, Kenny waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry about it D, these people, they  _ know _ me, I might as well live there.” Twisting the knob, Kenny called, “Stay crazy, my funky friend,” before pushing open the door and stepping through.

Instantly, he was surrounded by  _ Hell. _

Okay, maybe that was unfair, this wasn’t actually Hell, this was more Hell HQ, where the offices and Satan’s palace and Demon lodgings and things of that nature were. Kenny had, as always, materialized at the front of a seemingly endless line that stretched from where he stood to what he was pretty sure was infinity. No one knew how backed up Hell was, only that waiting was well… Hell.

Leaning on the desk, Kenny wiggled his eyebrows at the Succubus behind it, who was dressed like a cute secretary right down to the little scarf, and cooed, “Well well, Nancy, it’s good to see you again. How’re the kids?”

Glancing up from her keyboard, Nancy drew her full lips into a pout. “Oh,” she grumbled seductively. “It’s you again. It  _ figures. _ It’s always you.” Crossing her arms, the Succubus looked Kenny over and said, “Your hair is a complete mess.”

No one knew it, but Nancy was actually a neat freak. Funny how the Underworld worked.

Purposefully  _ not _ fixing his hair because it was  _ always _ a mess, who did she think she was talking to, Kenny purred, “Now, is that any way to talk to one of your favoritest people in the whole wide world?” When her tail twitched irritably, Kenny let out a laugh that startled the spirit-of-the-damned that was closest to him. “Come off it Nanc, I haven’t seen you in  _ ages, _ don’t be so sour.”

“Ken, I don’t  _ like _ it when you come down here,” she burst out at last, unfolding and slumping forward over her work. As her full, red curls spread across papers and unfinished documents, the Succubus softly complained, “When you show up, I have to go through mountains of paperwork. And you’d think we’d be more organized around here, but it’s just abysmal.” Letting out a sigh, the woman admitted, “Alright, yes, I like you, but I don’t like the legalese.”

Hunching over the lip of the counter, Kenny reached out and patted Nancy on the head, which produced some accidentally sexual groans from her. “Hey, I’m not the one who asks to come here, I just sort of  _ die _ and they send me here when they want to. Sucks that you’ve got all that extra work. If you wanted, I could help out after I’ve figured out what I’m here f-”

“No, don’t bother, the longer you’re here, the worse it is,” Nancy mumbled, straightening herself and tucking her hair back behind her shoulders. Blinking the pitch black from her big, green eyes, the Succubus shuffled through her papers before picking up a manila envelope and handing it over the desk. Kenny instantly took it, but didn’t open it immediately, instead waiting for her to explain. “I knew it was stupid to hope it was a different McCormick. Have fun Ken, don’t do anything  _ I’d _ do.”

Crossing his heart as he took a step back, Kenny gravely said, “I swear on my life, I won’t do  _ any _ paperwork while I’m down here.”

His words earned him an unintentionally playful growl. “Suck a dick, Kenny McCormick~!”

“I’ll keep that in mind as well!” Before he could bother the Succubus any more, Kenny ducked through one of the doors that lead off of the main hall and opened the letter as he shrugged out of his hoodie and attempted to neatly tie it around his waist. They were typed orders, as they always were, and he didn’t bat an eye at them.

_ To whom it may concern; _

_ Please report to the southernmost offices of Hell at the soonest possible date. Thank you in advance. _

_ -Hell _

Clicking his tongue, Kenny tossed the envelope into a convenient furnace and fiddled with the paper as he walked. It was notoriously hot down here, and even with the air conditioning, he could feel himself working up a sweat. How some people were comfortable down here was amazing, but he supposed it came with the territory. Many things did.

As he walked, Kenny deliberately didn’t think. It wasn’t as hard as it sounded, in fact, he was suspiciously good at keeping his mind blank. It came with years of diligent practice, and more than a little willful ignorance. This was one of those times that he didn’t want to have any thoughts rocketing around in his head, and he was perfectly happy with keeping himself that way.

Hell was actually a really nice place, once you got past the fire and brimstone and the eternal damnation bits. Some parts were pretty chill, and Kenny had taken his time getting to know the place. It helped that he seemed to have  _ forever. _ Maybe one day he’d belong here, but until then, he’d just visit. The whole thing was full of people who had done it  _ wrong, _ so he felt like he fit in just fine.

Maybe someday, he’d get to stay.

Glancing down at his hands, Kenny stuck his tongue out from between his teeth as he finished folding the paper airplane he’d turned his summons into. It was oddly satisfying, a little piece of fun in a place like this, though whoever said Hell couldn’t be fun… As a half smirk crawled its way onto his face, Kenny closed one eye and tossed the airplane down the seemingly endless hall he was walking down.

Suddenly, a gout of flame shot out, and Kenny let out a cry of protest as his paper airplane was decimated. “Really?” Kenny asked, reproachful. “Was that necessary?”

Predictably, a voice echoed out from somewhere towards the end of the hallway. “Kenny McCormick, it’s been a while.”

Cracking a wry grin, Kenny lifted his head and called, “Damien, I didn’t think you could come out of the seventh circle. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

From the gloom that pervaded places like crypts, Hell, and wine cellars, a figure stepped. Damien, in Kenny’s professional opinion, hadn’t changed a bit since they’d first met back in third grade when the boy had first shown up in South Park. Sure he’d grown taller, but everything else had largely remained the same. There was still that crook in his nose from when that basketball had hit him in the face, his eyes were still the same shade of burning hellfire, hell, his hair was even the same length. To be honest though, Kenny couldn’t have imagined a more accurate picture of what Satan’s son would look like.

Though his perpetual frown didn’t change, Damien’s mouth twitched, giving him away. “I decided that meeting you halfway would be better than waiting.”

“Wow, have  _ I _ managed to draw out the Devil himself by simply existing?” Kenny asked, smirking like an asshole, which he very much could be. “Man, I mean I knew I was awesome, but I didn’t think that it would get me  _ that _ far in life.”

“I  _ can _ come out, I just choose not to,” Damien muttered, his eyebrow twitching. “Not everyone tries to do things differently every single day like  _ you _ do.” Looking him up and down, the boy amended, “I take that back, it’s been seven years and you’re still wearing that same mildly offensive shade of orange, so I guess we all have habits that die hard.”

_ I forgot how unnervingly accurate he could be. Heh, that’ll teach me. _ Dipping his head, Kenny spread his hands and said, “You’ve caught me red handed Damien, I’m guilty, try me and convict me because I’ve sinned. I guess you’ll just have to send me to  _ Hell.” _ His terrible joke was rewarded by a snort which made him smile.

Looking up at the boy, who was now standing before him, Kenny said, “So, I can only assume that you’re the one who summoned me.”

Damien nodded shortly before turning on his heels and beckoning Kenny forward. Following the boy, Kenny watched as the uniform doors passed by and listened as their footsteps echoed against the pavement. “It was a bitch to get DEATH to let me have you for a moment, and I got an earful from several secretaries, but yes, I was the one who summoned you.”

Chuckling, Kenny muttered, “Well, if that isn’t an accurate description of D then I don’t know what is.” Curiously, Kenny prodded, “But I would have thought it would be  _ easy _ to get him to let me come down here. I’m pretty sure he hates having me around so often. And why wait, if it was something important, you only have to ring~”

Damien shot Kenny an unreadable look before quickly returning his eyes to the hall ahead of them. “DEATH is a benevolent entity, you should be grateful that they put up with you so gracefully. Anyone else in their position would not be so kind.”  _ Hah, if I wasn’t so good at dodging shit, you’d have gotten that one past me. But you can’t use my tricks against me Damien, I see through them every time. _ Of course, Kenny didn’t say it. No, he just let Damien avoid the question, because to be honest, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t want to answer the questions that it would bring.

“Hey, any time you guys want to make it permanent, be my guest,” Kenny said, spreading his arms wide. “I will  _ gladly _ accept my fate.” Catching the bitterness in his own tone, Kenny bit his tongue and fell silent. He knew that he shouldn’t bring it up, he could feel a little piece of him whither and die every time he slipped, but at the same time, sometimes he couldn’t  _ not _ say something. Especially to someone like Damien who  _ knew. _

Even so, it caused several moment’s awkward pause before Damien chose to speak again. “You know that’s not my right to give you Kenny, I  _ can’t _ help you.”

Managing a laugh that covered up the clunky gaps in the silence, Kenny waved it away casually. “Yeah, I know that. Don’t worry about it man, I get it. Sorry, it just slipped out.” Quickly searching for something to distract the boy with, Kenny brightly said, “Oh yeah! Pip says hi~ I know you’ve probably seen him since the last time I saw you, but I figured I’d pass it along anyway.”

Just as he’d hoped, the mention of the dead boy-turned-angel provoked a tiny lessening of the frown on Damien’s face. It wasn’t a smile, but for Satan’s son, it was as close as it got. “I saw him just last week,” Damien admitted, his fiery eyes growing distant as his mind wandered. “He says hello, he knew I was going to call you at some point soon.”

Kenny grinned. “Well, considering how in-demand my time seems to be right about now, I’ll probably see him sooner than you.” He said it casually, but instantly he knew that he’d said the wrong thing because Damien’s arua went from being simply dark, to entirely black.

“Yes,” the boy said, his tone tight. “I’m sure you will.”

Unable to stop himself from getting defensive, Kenny muttered, “Look, it’s not my fault that I die all the time, if Pip wants to talk to me, then I’ll get sent to Heaven for a while. I’m not going to complain, dude. Earth is  _ shit.” _ And there he went, running his mouth again, but fuck, he meant it, and he was tired of pretending he didn’t. Damien, to his credit, seemed to understand, but his frown still deepened.

“I’m sure Philip will be glad to see a familiar face,” Satan’s son said at last, his words slow and careful. “He misses the old people from South Park, you’re a taste of home.” It was probably the first and last time Kenny would ever be described as anything as positive as a taste of home, but he took it at face value. Anything to keep the conversation from getting too serious.

“Well, he misses you too,” Kenny countered, shrugging his shoulders. “But yeah, I get you. If I had as much time on my hands as he does, I’d miss home as well. At least there we actually get to  _ do _ things. Not much, but things.”

“You and your friends are still managing to almost destroy the world every other week,” Damien pointed out, a touch of amusement in his words. “I would know, I get to see the death count.” Kenny winced at that, because well,  _ he had a point, _ but he still managed a laugh to accompany it. That and a lazy twirl of his fingers.

“All in a day’s work my friend,” Kenny sang, his voice light. “It’s an acquired skill, but man, we’re the best in town.”

“Literally,” Damien poked back.

“Your words, not mine,” Kenny purred, his eyebrows twitching upwards.

Mood successfully lightened, Kenny happily turned with Damien as they finally came to the end of the hallway and exited into a vast, ghostly ballroom. There were skeletal couples populating the area, all of them caught in the same, endless, inaudible waltz. Kenny sometimes found himself wondering if, once he finally  _ died, _ he’d be able to hear the song they danced to. As it was, he artfully treaded after Satan’s son as he wove through the swaying pairs, careful not to step on any ghostly toes in the process.

Muted as they seemed to always be, Damien’s footsteps stopped completely as he halted at the top of a staircase. “Does he  _ really _ miss me?” the boy asked, his words soft yet still imploring. Recognizing the boy’s insecurities as the same feelings that plagued him, Kenny ducked his head down and stared at his ripped jeans for a moment, even though he didn’t have to think about the question.

“Damien, you have known him for eight fucking years, of course he misses you.” Scuffing at the floor with his shoe, wincing at the squeak it made as it slid against polished marble, Kenny looked up at Damien and clearly said, “You’re  _ dating _ him Damien, he wouldn’t have said yes if he didn’t care. That’s how it works. Even if you are stuck in Hell.”

“You say that,” Damien muttered. “I  _ hear _ that, but the fact of the matter is that you’re here Kenny, and I’m still in Hell.” The unspoken  _ so where’s the bullshit _ rang in the silence. Cursing mentally, Kenny turned away from Damien and started down the stairs, not particularly caring that it was possibly a bit  _ rude _ to act that way.

“Hey, I’m here because  _ you _ asked for me,” Kenny pointed out, trying to keep his voice light and jovial, even if he wasn’t feeling it at all. “Dude, I get it, you never get to see him, but you’re still making it work, so try feeling good about it for once.”

“I don’t tend to feel good,” Damien said, as if the concept was confusing. Rolling his eyes, Kenny waved away the boy’s words, unwilling to get lost in the semantics.

“Bad then. Neutral. I don’t know Damien, I’m just saying that if  _ I _ could make a long distance relationship like that work, I’d  _ totally _ be dating a girl from Canada right about now. So at  _ least _ take some pride in it.” Was he being short with the boy, yes, did he feel bad about it? Okay, maybe a little. But not much.

Appearing in front of kenny, as someone like Damien tended to do, the boy muttered, “You’re right, I shouldn’t complain.”

“But…?” Kenny prompted, sensing a dangling sentence when he saw it.

“But that doesn’t make me any more sure of it, Kenny,” Damien stated shortly, continuing to stay several steps below the Sandy-blond boy. “Philip is in  _ Heaven, _ and I am, as you so neatly pointed out, in  _ Hell.” _ He paused, then shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about it at all. I didn’t call you here to talk about my relationship.” He said the word with such disdain, Kenny winced.  _ Damn, Pip’s a saint for dealing with this piece of work, much less  _ dating _ him. _

Instead of saying that, Kenny laughed and crooned, “Damien,  _ dude, _ I am  _ literally _ your captive audience right now. Talk about whatever you want, I’m not the one who called me down here, you are. I’m perfectly willing to talk to you about  _ whatever _ you want.” His words were met with a quick look that Damien cast towards him, but that was all.

“I assume you want to know why you’re here,” Damien said, his words more clipped and business-like than before.

“Well, I mean it would be  _ nice,” _ Kenny admitted, sucking in his cheeks. “It’s not often you let me come down here, so it has to be good.”

“Good is relative,” Damien said, like the typical piece of hellspawn that he was. “But yes, I do have a reason.” Huffing, he added, “I had better, my father dislikes it when I stress out the secretaries too much.”

“Nancy is wonderful,” Kenny said sincerely. “But dude, you have to give her some help. She’s losing her marbles up there, and no number of ghosts are going to help you find them. Just give her a vacation to the fifth circle of hell or something, maybe update her computer? It’s still running on Vista.”

Now it was Damien’s turn to wince. “Well… yes. That would be wise.” Chuckling, Kenny shook his head.  _ Always taking things seriously, aren’t you? Man, I remember when I used to be able to look at things and take them at face value. _ “But that’s not why I called you down here either. The help is welcome, but not my goal.”

“Then why don’t you explain?” Kenny asked, his eyebrows hiking up. “Come on, cut a guy some slack Damien, the suspense is  _ killing _ me.”

Stopping abruptly, Damien reached out and caught Kenny’s shoulder before they collided. All Kenny had time to do was widen his eyes in surprise before he was inelegantly yanked out of existence, only to re-materialize in a room littered with hundreds, if not thousands, of folders and loose papers. As he attempted to reorient himself to his surroundings enough to form a sentence, Kenny dazedly watched as Damien dug through the papers on the flooded desk and found the one he was looking for.

Pulling out the piece of paper, on which were numerous handwritten notes, Damien pushed past Kenny and threw open the door. “The reason I had for calling you down here Kenny is admittedly not one I would usually use. But I felt like it was the right time.” Following the boy out into his private quarters, for that was apparently where they were now, Kenny watched as Damien rummaged around in a drawer before yanking out a more faded, yet equally defaced sheet of paper.

“My father, as I’ve told you, has put me in charge of a great many things as I’ve gotten older,” Damien continued, holding up the two pieces of paper before nodding and walking towards yet another set of doors. “Now, most of it I’ve put others in charge of. Wormwood does an  _ excellent _ job of dealing with the legal battles we have with Heaven occasionally, and Amy over in records is pretty good with sorting out the information for the recently damned, but there are some things  _ I _ like to handle.”

“Obviously,” Kenny said, cautiously stepping out after Damien into the elements of Hell as he was led onto a treacherous walkway that would take them up to the almost whimsical pavillion that overlooked the seventh circle of Hell. Below them, there was the eternal drone of battle, but Kenny didn’t pay it any attention. It was pretty much old news at this point.

Stopping at the mouth of the pavilion, Damien looked down at Kenny and said, “I take a special interest in the deaths that come from several places in the world. Philip’s asked me to watch over some of them, but I chose to watch over South Park.” His eyes were calm as he looked at Kenny, and the boy felt something run through him. Not exactly fear, but definitely not excitement.

“Well, I would,” Kenny said easily, taking the last few steps up and pushing past Damien. “I mean, it’s a shithole, but it’s still South Park. We love it, even though it’s horrible.” Only sparing a glance for the small garden that had been cultivated in the middle of the pavilion, Kenny stepped out and looked over the balcony, even though the scenery was abysmal.

“Philip does the same for South Park from up there,” Damien told Kenny, his voice still carrying that  _ damning _ tone. “Together we keep track of everyone. Or should I say, almost everyone.”

“Come on Damien, you’re supposed to draw out the punch line,” Kenny complained, tapping his fingers in an attempt to pretend that the boy’s words hadn’t sent chills down his spine. “You’re not supposed to give it to me all at once, it ruins the dramatic effect.”

“Kenny McCormick, your records are surprisingly difficult to gather,” Damien told the boy, his words ringing out clearly. “Both of us have to go through a  _ lot _ to get ahold of them, and we often have to piece them together because we never get everything. You are  _ frustratingly _ stuck in this limbo that makes almost everything  _ impossible, _ but Philip insisted, and I listen to him.”

Twisting his head around, Kenny feigned nonchalance. “So, what’s the good word? I’m sure they’ve got a lot to say about me.”

“They do.” Holding up the two pieces of paper he’d been holding, Damien said, “Right here Kenny, I have a list of every single one of your deaths from last year. Down to the second. In fact, I even have the cause of them.” Kenny’s blood really did run cold then, but he kept his smile on his face, refusing to give in.

“Pip helped you with this?” he asked instead, in one last desperate attempt to throw Damien off. “Wow, he usually hates thinking about how much I tend to d-”

“He cares,” Damien stated, his words unflinching. “Please respect that, and do the same. This is a serious conversation, Kenny, treat it as such.”

“Hey, I never said it wasn’t,” Kenny insisted, lifting his hands and closing his eyes. “In fact, I’m so serious, you can’t even comprehend it.”

There was a beat of silence, one, damning beat.

“Kenny, why have you shot yourself in the head twenty eight times in the past seven months.” 

He said it like a question, but it sounded like a death sentence.

Sucking in a breath, Kenny opened his eyes and stared at Damien as the boy clearly continued, “There isn’t any rhyme or reason to it, you don’t have any  _ pattern, _ you just keep  _ killing _ yourself in the exact same way and even though DEATH has spoken to you about it on multiple occasions, you keep  _ doing it.” _

“What, do you want a reason?” Kenny asked, his voice flat, for all the emotions running around inside him.

“Yes,” Damien answered, tone equally even. “I would like a reason, because so far, I haven’t been able to find one.”

Laughing, the sound escaping from him without permission, Kenny muttered, “Oh, wouldn’t it be so much easier if you could just forget about it Damien? It doesn’t matter, I die all the time! Maybe I’m trying to make a statement.”

“Then you’d be more persistent,” Damien said, his words coming out like he’d thought about them for far too long. Like he’d already worked through all the possibilities and honestly couldn’t find one that fit. “Tell me  _ why _ Kenny.”

“I’m suicidal,” Kenny threw out, hating himself for saying it like it was something to be used like a mask.  _ I’m fucking pathetic, what’s wrong with me? _

“No, you’re not Kenny McCormick, you have seen too much of the world, the underworld, and the heavens, for me to believe that.” Damien shook the papers and held them in front of him. “They started on a random day, and they haven’t stopped. Why are you doing this Kenny,  _ why?” _

“Does it matter?” Kenny asked, gritting his teeth. “Why do you  _ care _ Damien? Why do you or Pip care? Because you know me? Because I’m from South Park and we were in the same third grade class?” He hated how defensive he was getting, but dammit, he didn’t want to have to deal with this. Not now, not ever, really. “Just leave me alone about it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and wishing he still had his hoodie on so he could at least attempt to hide his face. “It’s not like it ever sticks.”

“Is that why you do it?” Damien asked, his brows furrowing. “Because you’re hoping it’ll finally stick? Because you’re hoping that someday you’ll actually be able to die?” Kenny didn’t look up, and the boy nodded as if this had been answer enough. “I thought as much.”

“That’s not why I do it,” Kenny said softly, his hands tightening into fists. “I know I look shallow Damien, but I’m not quite  _ that _ disgusting.” Turning back so he could look out over the souls of the damned, he muttered, “But I don’t think it matters, does it. Because you’re right, I do hope that someday you bastards will finally let me actually go through with it, even though you never do. So maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t want to talk about it,” Damien observed, his tone so damn cool about it Kenny wanted to throw something.

“Yeah, no shit.” Shaking his head, Kenny pushed out a hollow laugh. “Come on Damien, forget about it. It’s just me, I do this all the time. Let’s just be friends for a while.”

“You do realize that I’m only trying to understand,” Damien pointed out, walking over to Kenny and standing beside him, his posture as rigid as ever. “I did not go to all that trouble to get that information for you to just laugh it off Kenny, I did it because I wanted to make a difference. You’ve always been cheerful, you’ve always been positive. So what happened?”

“You sound like D,” Kenny commented, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” Damien agreed, no trace of amusement in his voice, despite the way his eyebrows twitched upwards. “There’s a reason I belong down here, and it’s not just because this is my home, it’s because I never would have fit in on Earth. Here at least, I’m useful.”

_ Well, ain’t that the truth. _ Taking a breath, Kenny ruefully said, “Man, there are humans who would  _ kill _ to have such a clear purpose.” 

Damien’s eyes were shrewd as they fixed on Kenny. “Are you one of those people?”

Glancing sideways, the sandy-blond lifted his eyebrows and asked, “Aren’t we all?” When Damien’s frown deepened, Kenny muttered, “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me dude, it’s not going to get you anywhere. Yeah, I’d love to know who I am and where I fit into the rest of the universe, but Stan says the same things when he’s drunk, and Kyle’s actually cried because he thinks he’s going down the wrong path. None of us know what the hell we’re doing, some of us are just happier about it than others.”

Staring over the edge of the balcony, Damien asked, “Would you rather be here, Kenny? Stuck in  _ Hell _ for eternity?”  _ Yes, _ hovered on the tip of Kenny’s tongue, but he swallowed it back and instead studied the fighters below them.

“I’d rather be where I should have ended up the first time I died,” Kenny said at last, his voice flat, exhausted. “I don’t know where that is Damien, no one would tell me. But it sure as shit wasn’t on Earth, because otherwise, I wouldn’t have died.”

“You know, Philip likes to talk about purpose a lot,” Damien commented, taking a step back and leaning against the pillar next to him. “He honestly believes that he belongs where he is, and that he’s there for a reason. I never believed that about my situation, my father forced purpose upon me. I simply accepted it.”

“Well, Pip’s a lot happier than the rest of us,” Kenny said, managing a half smile. “He really does belong in Heaven, he was too good for Earth. We’d have ruined him.” Realizing how horrible that sounded, Kenny shook his head and chuckled. “Listen to me, I sound like a goddamned old man.”

“Considering how many lives you’ve lived…” Damien’s voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on the middle distance somewhere above Kenny’s head. “What do you think you deserve now?”

Kenny laughed, a real laugh that he couldn’t control.  _ “Dude,” _ he crooned, his eyes alight with something that even he couldn’t quite name. “I’m a fucking trainwreck. Someday, I’m going to end up down here, you mark my words. Unless of course, they throw me into some weird limbo for simply existing, but if you guys let me die? There’s no way I belong up there. The Man Upstairs doesn’t like me.” Stopping, he admitted, “Actually, I don’t think Daddy Devil likes me much either.”

Damien didn’t comment on it, so Kenny made the remark on his own. “I get it, you guys have to have standards. I take no offense.” Turning away from the boy, Kenny glanced at the little garden and actually looked it over, letting it distract him from what he’d just said for a moment. There was something about it that made Kenny smile. “I take it Pip helped you with it,” Kenny said, gesturing at the gently swaying flowers.

Successfully distracted, Damien glanced over at the garden and stepped towards it. “Yes, he did,” he told Kenny, carefully stepping into the grass and sitting down on the small rock that sat beside the single, twisting tree. “I would not have thought of it, but it adds… Character.”

“Definitely dude,” Kenny agreed, walking over and running his hand along the bark of the tree. “I like it.” Thinking of Damien’s earlier comments, about Pip not really liking him and about not being good enough, Kenny found himself shaking his head. “I’m telling you Damien, he really cares about you.”

“Kenny-”

“No, you got to yell at me about being stupid, now it’s my turn.” Sitting down at the edge of the grassy garden, Kenny swept his hands over the scene and bluntly said, “He wouldn’t make this much of an effort if he didn’t care.”

“I’m not good enough.” Damien’s fiery eyes went black. “He’s worth more than me.”

Kenny was about to disagree, when he realized that he couldn’t, not without sounding like a hypocrite himself. With a sigh, the blond ran fingers through his hair once more and said, “I get that.”

“I realize you said not to analyze you, but you have to understand that I can’t help myself,” Damien said, his words making Kenny hiss out a breath through his teeth bitterly.

“You know it’s not depression,” Kenny told Damien. “Yeah, I’m depressed as hell, but so are a lot of kids. I’m not killing myself because I want it to be over, because I know that doesn’t work. I’m not stupid. I might not be smart, but even I know better than that.”

“Then what is it?” Damien asked, leaning forward and looking at Kenny intently.

_ I don’t know. _ But he did, didn’t he? In a really weird way, he knew and he couldn't put it into words. So instead he asked, “Why don’t you think you’re worth anything Damien?”

“I’m the son of Satan,” Damien pointed out. “I’m born of evil.” Kenny didn’t have to look at the boy to know his frown had deepened, the circles under his eyes had gotten darker.  _ Heh, I guess I’m not the only one losing sleep. At least someone cares about you Damien. _ “But that’s not-”

“You didn’t get to choose whether you wanted to be evil or not,” Kenny pointed out, talking over the boy. He kept picking at the rough floor of the pavilion and kept attempting to pick out and destroy the thoughts circling in his mind. “No one asked you if you wanted to be evil or whatever, you just sort of were, and you couldn’t do a thing about it.”

“Does that matter?” Damien asked, his voice dark. “Everyone is born, everyone is put into a situation that they themselves did not create. That doesn’t change the fact that some are evil, and some are not.”

“It does matter though,” Kenny countered, counting the holes in his jeans and remembering the various falls that had put them there. “No one should give a damn how they were born. One percent of the world is born to something other than shit, the rest of us, well, we’ve got to make our own decisions and live our own lives.” Pulling at the tufts of denim that stretched over his knee, Kenny said, “It’s what you do that matters, that’s what defines you, that’s what makes you a good person or a bad person. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

“And have I?” Damien prompted, his tone distant. “Have I made the right choices?”

Kenny ran a hand through his already wild hair. “Well shit dude, you’ve made the best of a crappy situation, and I’d say that your choices reflect that, wouldn’t you?” Glancing upwards at the roof of the pavilion, Kenny continued, “Even though you’re stuck down here, you still… Make the effort to care, you know?”

Unsure why his own words were making his skin crawl, the boy gestured at the garden and said, “Look, you cared enough to do this for him, give Pip something to see that was beautiful, even in the middle of Hell, and sure it’s only one person, but you can’t affect the world, right?” Leaning on his elbows, Kenny muttered, “At least, that’s what I think.”

“Do you think you’ve made the right decisions?” Damien asked, his voice odd. “Have you made the best of what you have?”

Derisively, Kenny snorted. “Nah, not me man. I’m a  _ basket case. _ I’m nothing but a string of bad choices and selfish mistakes.”  _ Some of which I keep making, even though I know it’s stupid. _ Letting a thin smile cross his face, Kenny sing-songed, “I’m so bad, not even  _ Hell _ wants me.”

“I’ve only ever seen you try to do good,” Damien said, like Kenny’s answer confused him.

“Oh I try,” the boy agreed, laughing dryly. “I’m always trying to be a good person, but… I guess there comes a point where you’re forced to realize that the sins just far outway whatever positivity you might be able to bring.”  _ Fuck, how did we get here so fast. I sound like a bitter asshole. _

“If that was true, I’d never talk to Philip.” Damien didn’t say it like he was trying to prove a point, but Kenny could feel the implications of those words weigh heavily on him. “You claim I have good in me, that I make good choices, but I help run  _ Hell, _ something very clearly comprised of all that is evil.” Red eyes sunk into the blond boy like they were made of metal. “Is it only our actions that define us, or something else.”

Breaking eye contact with Damien, Kenny softly said, “Either way, I’m screwed.” Reaching down, he took one of the small, smooth pebbles that littered the small garden and rubbed his fingers over it, almost like he was trying to expend the energy building up in his system.

There was a moment of silence. One that was full of the many things that Damien kept thinking just a bit too loudly. Flicking the pebble away, Kenny turned to look at the boy and managed a rueful smile. “In the end, however you see it, Pip had the right to choose to be around you.”

“His choice is strange,” Damien observed bluntly.

“But you care about him, right?” Kenny asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course,” the other responded, predictably.

Leaning back, staring at the ceiling of the pavilion, Kenny sucked in his cheeks for a moment before decisively saying, “So savor it. Whether you  _ deserve _ it or not doesn’t really factor into how he feels about you. Try to enjoy the fact someone gives a damn, not everyone is so lucky.”

Catching Kenny’s slip up before the blond could, Damien asked, “Are you one of the unlucky ones, Kenny McCormick?” Eyes flicking over towards the son of Satan, Kenny put on an impassive expression in the face of the other’s question. Furrowing his brows, the hellish boy asked, “If you had someone, would you stop repeating this useless cycle?”

Kenny’s only response was a laugh. “Me, unlucky? Whatever gave you that impression?”

Sighing Damien said, “I suppose this goes without saying, but please consider thinking before you pull the trigger next time. I would rather you stopped.”

“Thanks for the sentiment.” Stretching his legs before lifting himself back to his feet, Kenny rocked back on his heels and continued, “I’ll keep it in mind.” Tapping on his skull, the blond grinned. “Hopefully it won’t fall out of any of the  _ holes.” _

Damien didn’t laugh. Rising, the boy instead waved a hand. To Kenny’s left, a fiery rift materialized. Several of the leaves from the tree wilted at its presence, one actually catching and crisping to a fine ash. As it widened to become a portal, the blond boy chirped, a little unfairly perhaps, “And just like that, you finally run out of patience. Oh well, it was bound to happen.”

Ignoring this deliberate jab, Damien said, “I am sure I will see you again, one way or another.”

Carefully stepping through the small garden to the exit, Kenny assured him, “Oh you will.” Throwing in a wink for good measure, he added, “I’m just that amazing.” Giving Damien a salute, the blond asked, “Want me to pass any messages on to Pip?”

“I would rather you not end up there any time soon,” Daimen returned, his gaze dark.

“Yeah, but humor me.” As an afterthought, Kenny stooped down and plucked one of the swaying flowers from the garden. Taking it not wilting instantly as a good sign, the boy waved it about and crooned, “C’mon, something sappy. How about  _ not a moment goes by where I don’t think of y-” _

“Tell him hello,” Damien said, swiftly cutting Kenny’s words off. “And maybe tell him that I did my best.”

His mouth twitched, like it wanted to tighten into a line, but the boy stopped himself and simply bowed his head gracefully. “Will do.” Then, with a lazy grin that gave nothing away, Kenny waltzed through the portal and straight out of Hell.

Unexpectedly, when Kenny’s eyes opened, he was lying in someone’s backyard.

Taking a second to gather his wits, the blond sat up, still a little dazed. Looking about his immediate vicinity, Kenny noted the gun sitting a few feet away, half obscured by the recently mowed grass. Decisively picking it up, the boy’s eyes traveled around. Up to the picket fence, then over to the house it surrounded.

Kenny hadn’t been in Butters’ yard for a good while, long enough that it took him a solid moment to connect all the dots.  _ So this is Damien’s idea of someone to worry about me. _ Clearly this had been purposeful. A smile edged its way onto his face, but it was far from a cheerful one.

Just because Satan’s son kept an eye on South Park didn’t mean he paid attention to the nuances.

Part of him wanted to lie back down and just ignore the world for a moment, get lost in the happier memories attached to this place and forget everything else.  _ As if I could actually pull that off. _ Instead he got to his feet and slipped the gun back into the pocket of his parka. As his fingers met paper, Kenny sighed and pulled out what he already knew it to be.

Damien’s list of deaths was written it tight, angry little letters that crammed each other like there wasn’t enough room on the page. Pip’s was very carefully spaced, with clear letters and thin pen strokes. Both left the same, uncomfortable lump in the back of Kenny’s throat. 

Though he might have dodged the matter when Damien had confronted him, Kenny could hardly avoid himself. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? For a moment, he stared sightlessly at the two pieces of paper, then he carefully folded them back together and crammed them back into his pocket.

Remembering where he was, the blond glanced up at Butters’ house. The emotions that welled up within him were bittersweet at best, but they’d been dulled by time to the point where he hardly cared anymore. Still, it was with a practiced ease that Kenny made for the drainpipe on the side of the building and began to climb.

This might have been a more welcome location for Damien to drop Kenny several years ago. Back when the raven haired demon had lived on earth, Butters had, after all, been part of Cartman’s group. And Kenny had been fond of him, that much had been obvious.

But, Kenny thought as he came to Butters’ window only to plant his feet on the small outcropping of shingles that lay below it and stand there, not looking in.  _ Times have changed. _ Their group had drifted away from Butters, or more accurately, the happy boy had moved on from them.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kenny leaned his head back against the house’s siding and let his eyes slide closed. Somewhere, in the intervening years, this had stopped being a source of comfort.

If he were to tap on the glass right now, Kenny knew that Butters would throw it open, invite him in, and ask what was wrong.

Reaching back into his pocket, almost obsessively, the blond pulled out those lists and unfolded them.

_ Friday, June 8th. 19:48.09 MST. Gunshot wound to the head. _

_ Monday, June 11th. 11:33.34 MST. Pushed off a cliff by a mechanical mountain goat. _

_ Wednesday, June 20th. 21:23.14 MST. Gunshot wound to the head. _

Kenny’s eyes drifted to the other paper.

_ June 26th -Tuesday 8:42.59pm MST. Self-inflicted shot through the head. _

_ July 1st - Sunday 7:20.46pm MST. Self-inflicted shot through the head. _

_ July 2nd - Monday 3:30.00pm MST. Death by falling tree. _

_ July 3rd - Tuesday 10:24.37pm MST. Self-inflicted shot through the head. _

His breathing had quieted to the point where even Kenny wondered if he was drawing air into his own body. Just to confirm that he was in fact still alive, the boy dragged in a forceful lungful of oxygen before letting it out in a deliberate way. The air was dry, as it always was in Colorado, and it almost stung as it passed through Kenny’s nasal passages. 

When written down as a list, certain things looked almost benign. 

Turning slightly, Kenny glanced into Butters’ window, to the boy sleeping just beyond it. Though he couldn’t see the other’s face, Kenny knew precisely how it would look. Soft, untroubled, caught by the threads of sleep that evaded the sandy blond standing outside. In a time long past, maybe he would have been selfish enough to interrupt that sleep, just to enjoy Butters’ company.

But that was a time now forgotten. Certainly Butters didn’t remember.

Perhaps Kenny would have made more of an effort to remember himself if remembering had ever helped. But there were some things that couldn’t be fixed with a word and a smile, however kind the smile or concerned the word.

So he turned away from the window once more and slipped down the drainpipe. Damien had tried to help, and Kenny wouldn’t fault him for that, but the blond wasn’t about to drag someone unconnected to his situation back into it. No matter how much he wanted a guardian angel, Butters wasn’t that person.

Kenny had realized that long ago.

The dry air hung heavy, but the only thing it held was a rueful sort of regret.

**Author's Note:**

> It was originally going to be one long oneshot, but it got really long. So I'm splitting it into three. Part two is almost done.
> 
> Hopefully it's worth something.


End file.
